A Time of Dread (Of Blood and Bone #1) - John Gwynne Page 0,132

before they have passed. All go through it unknowing. It is a hard test.’

She nodded grimly.

‘I want you to pass your warrior trial, Riv. And soon. Dark times are ahead, I feel it. Your sword arm and fervour will be needed.’

‘There is nothing I long for more.’

‘You shall retake your warrior trial soon. So master your anger.’

‘Yes, Lord Protector.’

‘There are other things that I wanted to talk to you about.’ Israfil fell silent, just staring at Riv, a level of sternness in his gaze that she had not seen before.

Oh no. He knows about all of the fights.

‘The other fights,’ Riv said, then paused. Israfil was frowning. ‘What did Kol tell you?’ she asked.

‘Kol? No, it was not Kol that told me of your altercation at Oriens. It was Aphra.’

What! My own sister! How could she?

Riv did feel her anger stir then, a snake uncoiling, hissing and rearing, fangs bared.

‘Riv!’ A hand slapping on his desk, a loud crack. ‘You remember that last command. To master your anger. I suggest you start right now. I can see it in you.’

It’s getting worse. I can feel it there all the time, like a deep ocean, any insult or injury, the wind that whips it into a storm.

‘Please, help me,’ Riv said, fighting back a sob. ‘I can feel it, moving through me.’ She rubbed her temples. ‘It is like a drug in my blood. Like when you drink wine, I feel it in my belly, a warmth, a glow. Then it is in my veins, spreading through me, seeping through every part of me, into my fists, making them clench, and into my head, like a mist, fogging all thought. And then …’ She shrugged. ‘Then it is just me, and I am it.’

‘A dark affliction, it sounds.’

‘It can be,’ Riv nodded. ‘And it can move from the belly glow to the head mist in a few heartbeats. No slow process, no time to fight it.’

‘Perhaps fight it is the wrong phrase. Control is what you need. To harness that rage, and use it. You would be formidable.’ Israfil stared at her a long time. ‘Maybe some time at Dun Seren would help you,’ he said, sounding as if he was talking to himself rather than Riv.

‘I thought things were not good between us and Dun Seren,’ Riv said.

‘Oh, there has always been a tension,’ Israfil said with a wave of his hand. ‘Their founder, Corban, took issue with our tactics from the very first day. Overly emotional and sentimental, I always thought him. Unable to see the greater good. Always obsessed with notions of kin and friendship and loyalty. Leaders must act for the greater good.’ He shrugged. ‘But they are the enemy of the Kadoshim, as are we. And of a time we will share information. I only think of them now because Balur and Alcyon speak of their training with much respect.’

‘I train hard, none harder,’ Riv said, ‘and no warriors train harder than the White-Wings.’

‘So quick to judge, when you have not seen,’ Israfil said, raising an eyebrow.

That is a fair point.

‘I understand, you are defending the pride and honour of your people, the White-Wings,’ Israfil said. ‘But do not let that sentiment cloud your vision, or your understanding. A warrior sees to the heart of his enemy, sees strengths and weaknesses honestly, dispassionately. And casts the same gaze upon himself. Or herself. That is purity of mind, what the Lore demands we strive for. Removing the ego.’ He paused, a slight smile. ‘My apologies, this was not supposed to be a lesson on the philosophies of combat.’

‘I like it,’ Riv said with a shrug.

‘Another time, then. As for your sister, do not be so hard with her. She did tell me of your misdemeanour at Oriens. She also told me that it was you who first saw through the Kadoshim ruse; that Oriens was a lure.’

Oh. There is some pleasantness left in her still, then.

‘Now, on to the other matter I wished to speak of with you. It is a grave matter, and its possible consequences far-reaching.’

‘If I can help in any way, Lord Protector, I will.’

‘Adonai and Estel,’ Israfil said, and suddenly Riv’s head was full of blood and feathers, of Estel’s White-Wings insignia torn and stamped upon on the flagstoned floor. ‘You know of what I speak.’

It was not a question.

‘Improper relations,’ Riv murmured, remembering Israfil’s words in the Great Hall.

‘Yes. I am hearing rumours. That this behaviour …’ He paused, face twisting with